


Take what you can, give nothing back.

by queenofchildren



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Pirates, pirate!Bellamy, proper lady Clarke, still very much a Slytherin though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/pseuds/queenofchildren
Summary: Clarke Griffin led a life of freedom and adventure - until tragic circumstances get her stuck in colonial trading town Port Arkadia. At the mercy of the greedy Wallaces, who have sinister plans for her and her friend Wells, Clarke decides that something must be done. And that something is turning to a life of piracy with none other than the famous Captain Blake.





	Take what you can, give nothing back.

> _While some folks row way up to heaven_  
>  _I'm gonna sing The Pirate's Gospel_  
>  _I'm gonna sow these feet for dancin'_  
>  _I'm gonna keep my eyes wide open_

 

Clarke Griffin learned about the cruelty of life at the tender age of 18. After a childhood that was adventurous and perhaps a little unusual, but during which she had been loved unconditionally by her parents and sheltered to the best of their ability, Clarke found out, suddenly and brutally, that life rarely turned out as expected.

After all, she had not expected her father to decide, after years of sailing the world, mapping and exploring and marvelling at its wonders, to plant their family in Southern soil and expect them to take root there when she was barely eighteen, in a colonial trading port that was small enough to be considered provincial, but just big enough to come with the trappings of civilised life that Clarke quickly came to despise; parties and gossip and talk of dowries.

Nor had she expected that, shortly after the move, both her parents would go missing on a routine trip to a neighbouring island, and that she would be left all alone in the world. As the Governor informed her, his inquiries had yielded no family willing to take her in back home in England, but that he and his son would be willing to take her in as their ward, and to treat her like a daughter and a sister until such a time as a suitable husband could be found. Clarke had no doubt that it had not been her desperate situation, but rather her name, rank and fortune that had softened the heart of the island's governor.

But given her dire circumstances and the fact that she had no way to access her inheritance without a man to do it for her, Clarke saw no choice but to stay with the Wallaces until she could come up with some kind of plan - or find some gullible man who fit the Wallaces' criteria for a suitable husband while letting her do as she pleased. The deciding factors for determining such suitability were not specified to her, but Clarke had no doubt they would be more heavily determined by Governor Wallace's wishes than by her own.

For now, she was altogether run aground.

And just when she had found a friend in her unwanted new home, someone to confide in and lean on, Clarke found that the Wallaces cruelty extended much further than she has previously assumed. For it was not just her the Wallaces seemed to want to make a profit off: She caught young Master Wallace speaking to one of the slave traders in the market while looking surreptitiously at her friend Wells. The son of a reputable merchant, Wells had been born free and received a proper education, and due to his knack for numbers, he was often at the house to help the Wallaces balance their books. Given the greedy look in the young Master's eyes, however, Clarke had begun to fear that one day, her friend would enter the house a free man and leave it in chains - but that, needless to say, would not happen under her watch.

So Clarke devised a way for him to escape the island.

And as if the Good Lord wanted to tell her he approved of her decision, it was on the very day she made this decision that she first heard the rumours of the _Persephone_ : a mysterious pirate ship that had evaded Governor Wallace's ships for months as it attacked incoming merchant ships - preferably those that carried human cargo. “ _She's chasin' death“_ , the townspeople whispered about the mysterious ship, “ _and she'll get a kiss for her trouble when she finds him.“_

But for now, Captain Blake and his _Persephone_ were still sailing, and still terrorising the crews of any ship in these waters.

And they, Clarke decided, were going to be the means to her salvation.

The first thing she did was procure allies: Such as the blacksmith's apprentice, a spirited woman named Raven whom Wells had long harboured a tender admiration for – a feeling that seemed to be returned, judging by the woman's face when she told her of Wallace's plans. Gripping a half-cooled scabbard in one hand and a hammer in the other, she looked like she was about to storm up to the house on the hill and end Cage Wallace right this second.

Instead, Raven paused momentarily in her rhythmic hammering to look at her determinedly.

"I can get a message to Captain Blake, if you can make sure coming here will be worth his time."

"I will."

Raven looked at her doubtfully. "And a few pieces of pretty jewelry will not suffice."

"I'm not going to give him jewelry," Clarke declared, a little too loud perhaps for the quiet blacksmith's shop, deserted save for a few dust motes dancing in the drowsy afternoon light. "I'm going to give him Port Arkadia."

***

Thus began the scheming.

Finding the city plans and blueprints to the fort in Governor Wallace's study was easy enough, and insight into the guards' roster could be gleaned from an ambitious officer who was all too easily won over by her sweet smile and her connection to the Governor.

Wells and Raven each did their part, having access to very different circles in town, and soon Clarke knew which merchant expected valuable cargo in the coming weeks and which soldiers were particularly prone to be distracted by rum and harlots. Pooling their intelligence, they soon had a plan between the three of them.

It was to be set into motion at the next new moon, and all Clarke needed was reassurance that the _Persephone's_ captain would come for their offerings, which Raven was certain he would.

"He'll not say no when there's rich spoils to be earned," Raven reassured her. "He's feeding half of Tortuga's poor out his own pocket, he can use any gold he can get his hands on." She returned her attention once more to her work, and Clarke almost missed it when she quietly but fondly muttered: "The sentimental fool."

It was not the first time the blacksmith had said something along these lines, and Clarke had come to the conclusion that the dark-haired woman seemed to have a very different impression of the _Persephone's_ mysterious captain than most everyone around.

The townspeoples' stories, picked up and carried on from survivors of the pirate's attacks, made the captain out to be a nightmarish monster, cruel and unforgiving, with a crew as greedy as they were bloodthirsty. Had she not been so desperate, Clarke would never even consider putting Well's life in his hands. But Raven seemed to know a different Captain Blake, one who raised his sister from infancy when their mother died, who took in the orphaned and homeless like strays off the streets, and who plundered ships only to give away their riches.

She wondered which man she'd get to meet.

She also wondered, of course, how Raven knew these things. But like the injury that caused her limp and the chronic pain, Clarke knew better than to ask about the origin of the story, and so Raven's past and Captain Blake's true nature remained equally shrouded in mystery - for now.

***

Now, so close to the day of reckoning, however, Clarke felt doubts rise within her for the first time. Having always been more rationally inclined than was generally assumed of her sex, Clarke increasingly felt a desire to have some sort of tangible proof of Captain Blake's trustworthiness. But when she asked Raven why she trusted the _Persephone's_ captain, the woman only smiled enigmatically.

"Because this is just the kind of situation he cannot resist. Offer him riches and he'll be tempted. But offer him riches and the chance to save someone from an injustice? Hell or high water won't keep him away."

Raven smiled almost wistfully, but soon her expression grew apprehensive again.

“I suggest you place your trust in him too, for you may soon have no other choice - the Wallaces will figure out you're behind this, and they will find some way to punish you even if they don't dare to throw you in jail. You should get your self off this island too.”

Clarke nodded grimly - she had been thinking along similar lines before, even when her plans had been first and foremost focused on getting Wells out of the Wallace's reach. But perhaps she had wanted to leave the island with him from the first moment the plan occured to her – a wish born in that dark corner of her mind that still felt the sway of a ship beneath her when she slept, still missed the harsh caress of an ocean's gale when the tropical heat and her heavy dresses threatened to stifle her.

And so, while Clarke spent her days plotting and planning, she spent her evenings in her room, keeping her hands busy with that most becoming of a lady's accomplishments as she painstakingly sewed every piece of her jewellery into the seam of her best dress.

Once that was done, she told Raven to add another item to her accord with Captain Blake: In exchange for entry to Port Arkadia, he would have to grant safe passage to Wells, Raven - and herself.

The captain agreed, the moon kept waning in the sky, and Clarke kept trying to decide if she was ready to leave Port Arkadia with all her belongings sewn into her clothing.

And once the night was darkest, their plan was set into motion.

Convincing the Wallaces to invite all higher-ranking officers from the garrison to the Governor's mansion for an evening of music and cards was easy as soon as Clarke implied that a husband might be found at the occasion. Additionally, a few allusions to their reputation and local standing convinced the stingy Governor and his son to send a barrel of wine to the garrison so that the soldiers could partake in the merriment as well. Clarke personally oversaw its transport, but no one saw when she slipped more than a few drops of Laudanum into it. By the time the night-watchman called the stroke of midnight, most of the garrison was fast asleep.

Raven, meanwhile, was running late in delivering a few freshly repaired swords and cutlasses to the garrison, and had to be let in even though the gate to the fort had already closed for the night. When she left again, the strain of her heavy burden forced her to sit down just inside the gate for a moment to catch her breath, and the guards, used to the young blacksmith, let her rest for as long as she needed.

When she had fully recovered, the gate, once closed, would not open again without some time and effort.

Wells, meanwhile, had met some merchants down at the port, to give advice on their books and learn the latest of the London stock exchange. Port wine was offered to him freely and repeatedly, and no one took a second glance when he leaned over the harbour wall and lost the contents of his stomach on the way back into town, heaving again and again for an awfully long time.

And just like the fort would not be opened anytime soon, the chain blocking the entrance to the harbour would not be lowered.

Port Arkadia was ready for Captain Blake and his _Persephone_.

With one glaring exception: Up at the Governor's mansion, the festivities showed no sign of ending. Clarke herself was a gracious and elegant hostess, sending the sweetest smiles at her guests and making sure they never suffered an empty glass. Unfortunately, it was this talent that almost turned out to be her undoing. For while she had counted on charming her guests into their cups and out of their wits, she had most certainly not planned on charming one of them a whole lot more - but that was precisely what happened.

Under the guise of sending for some more wine, Clarke was just about to slip away when footsteps followed her out of the dining-room and her guardian called out her name.

"Miss Clarke? There's someone here who would like to have a word with you." Slowly, forcing herself to breathe in and out deeply as she frantically wondered if her plot had been discovered, Clarke turned around - to find herself faced with the very guest who had bestowed his attention on her so eagerly before.

He bowed elegantly. "Your guardian has been so kind as to allow me a moment to speak to you alone, if you allow it."

Governor Wallace smiled benignly, and it began to dawn on Clarke what Mister Collins might like to speak to her about. She should have known there was a hidden motive behind the Governor's willingness to let her entertain so lavishly in his house, and it now became clear what it was: While she had planned for the evening to provide a distraction as she made her escape, Governor Wallace had meant for it to draw the attention of the island's eligible bachelors - and in Mister Collins, the son of one of the wealthiest merchant families in the city, had succeeded in his plan.

Clarke stopped herself just short of sending a murderous glare at the Governor - it would not do to make him suspicious now. So, as much as she would rather do anything else, Clarke did allow it, and let her admirer lead her into Lord Wallace's study.

He began his suit by complimenting her on the successful evening, which Clarke graciously accepted, before moving on to extol a number of other virtues of her person and character, which Clarke did not listen to as she was busy plotting her escape. She'd have to wait only long enough to gently turn him down, then disappear.

Sadly, that plan was crossed before she could set it into motion: For her suitor had barely managed to stammer out a proposal for her to decline when the door to the study was flung open and both Wallaces came in, smiling as if there was anything to celebrate about this day.

"Ah, what a joyous occasion to see two young people forming a tender bond," Governor Wallace exclaimed, then addressed Clarke specifically. "I have already told Mister Collins that I will not oppose his suit, so you may answer him without fear of any obstruction."

The meaning behind the words was clear: that no protest from her would be accepted. Her engagement, it seemed, was a foregone conclusion, and very much inescapable.

Clarke felt ready to despair. This was to be the night of her triumphant escape - but instead, she felt the noose draw ever tighter around her neck.

Hiding behind a facade of blushing coquettishness, Clarke racked her brain for something to say, anything to get out of this.

She considered making up an illness, highly contagious and likely to be fatal only after a long period of unpleasant suffering.

She briefly entertained the notion of making up some suitor with earlier claims to her hand, someone even richer and more tempting to the Wallaces.

She even attempted fainting, but found she could not hold her breath for long enough.

And in that very moment, the French doors behind her burst into pieces with an almighty crash – and in came flying a man.

He was clad in all black save for an indigo sash around his waist, and holding a pair of duelling pistols - a real life pirate, whose appearance, under any other circumstances, would have made her blood run cold with terror.

No sooner had the apparition landed on his feet that the pistols were pointed at the men gathered before her, triggers cocking loudly and signalling to everyone in the room that this man, despite his theatrical entrance, was not someone to be trifled with.

"I hate to intrude on this joyous moment," he started with unexpected politeness, then bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, "but I'm told there's still booty to be had up here."

Knowing that she was in no danger here, Clarke bit back a disdainful laugh at the ridiculous exclamation. She nonetheless drew the robber's attention, however, and his eyes fixed on her, an exaggerated leer distorting his otherwise handsome features.

"And here she is, I assume - the jewel of this magnificent island."

At his address, Mister Collins moved slightly in her direction, and for a moment Clarke was afraid that he would try and shield her from the pirate in a fit of heroism.

Luckily, the pirate Captain - for the man, it was clear from his trademark garb and duelling pistols, was none other than the infamous Captain Blake himself – intervened before Mister Collins could decide whether or not he wanted to rush to her aid: he grabbed her by the hips and swung her, abruptly and with the utmost ease, over his shoulder.

With her head dangling downward and her thighs and stomach pressed against the pirate's hard chest and broad shoulders, Clarke reflected that this was a position she had thankfully never found herself in and vowed never to be in again. But for the sake of her freedom, she would suffer it with dignity.

But while Clarke thought her bravery and composure were commendable, her would-be kidnapper seemed set on robbing her of them. With a loud crack, his free hand found her elevated backside, and while Clarke was still in shock about this abuse, the slap was followed by a rough, lusty squeeze of her buttock.

Clarke screamed, or rather, shrieked, in dismay and outrage and finally struggled to free herself from his grip.

But the pirate held on tight, turned, and ran out onto the balcony. Built in the latest French fashion, it wrapped once around the back of the house, with stairs leading down into the gardens below on each end.

These stairs he took, and they were swallowed up by the darkened maze of the gardens just as Clarke heard the first sounds of pursuit – no doubt it had taken a moment to rouse the guards, whom she had made sure had received a carafe of wine as well.

At the back of the garden, where the wall had received some damage when a tree fell onto it, the pirate stopped, adjusted his grip on her, and brought her back around to his front. With surprising gentleness, he set her down atop the garden wall, then climbed across it with swift, athletic movements. Once on solid footing, he held out his arms for her to jump down into, an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture for someone who had lewdly fondled her backside just minutes ago. For a moment Clarke wanted to decline the offer and make it down on her own. But the ground was uneven, and her silken shoes much less suited to athletic pursuits than his sturdy boots.

So she jumped, was safely caught by a pair of strong arms, and set down on the ground. He held on to her waist until she had found her footing on the slippery ground, but as soon as she had, Clarke made sure to put a safe distance between them - a move he clearly noticed, and interpreted correctly.

"There's no need to worry, I don't make it a habit to accost my hostages. You simply seemed much too calm at the prospect of being kidnapped by a pirate." Again he flashed that cocky grin. "It would be bad for my reputation if genteel folks like you suddenly stopped abhorring me."

Clarke bristled at his open amusement. Perhaps she ought not to expect manners from a man like him. But surely an apology for his manhandling was not too much to ask?

But the pirate already started striding down the muddy path along the mansion's garden wall, and Clarke had no choice but to follow if she wanted to keep up with his brisk pace.

"I take it Wells told you how to get in and out of the Governor's mansion?" She inquired in between puffs of laboured breath - she had not had much occasion for exercise lately, and the tightly laced corset of her fine dress did not help.

"Aye. Him and Raven refused to leave without you, even though you weren't at the meeting-point."

Well, she thought peevishly, for a pirate he was certainly not very good at handling a spontaneous change of plans.

"I was a little busy up at the mansion."

"I saw that," he replied, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw another one of those irritating smirks.

But before she could come up with a retort to what he was no doubt implying, she found herself yanked behind a little wooden lean-on shed between two houses, and a hand pressed over her mouth.

The instinct to struggle came to her more easily this time, but just as quickly, she found that it was altogether useless. His grip on her was unshakeable, and with her body trapped between his body and the wall at her back, she was barred from escape. She was about to bite into the hand pressed over her mouth to put up at least some form of resistance when she heard it: the quick, rhythmic footsteps of a guard batallion, passing right by their shady hiding-place.

Even through the darkness of their little nook, she could see him raise a smug eyebrow. Then he leaned closer to explain, his warm breath rushing past her neck and making her shiver despite the tropical warmth of the night.

"Guards. You're welcome, your highness."

"They'll have passed by in a moment," she hissed back.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, all hell broke loose out on the street: shouts, grunts, bangs, the clanging of swords and the ringing shots of pistols.

"I've ordered some of my crew to draw the guards away from the mansion. I expect that's what they're doing."

"Their distraction is anything but timely. And now we're trapped behind the guard."

"Is there some other way out of here?"

Clarke pondered the question. They had made it far enough into town for the houses to be close together, and the little alleyways behind them were blocked by fences and backyards. Unless they wanted to return to the mansion and trudge all the way around it, their only way down to the water was on the other side of that guard batallion currently locked into battle with Captain Blake's crew.

"There's one alleyway that leads to the cliffs, but it branches off at about the place where your companions have so helpfully intervened."

"Then I guess we're stuck here for the moment." He seemed completely unperturbed by this predicament.

"How can you be so calm about this situation? We are boxed in on the wrong side of this battle, within shouting distance of the very people chasing us, and with no way to get to the shore - which I assume we'll have to eventually, if we want to leave on your ship."

"You'll just have to be patient,” he said, still infuriatingly calm, and she wondered if he derived pleasure from riling her up like this.

He was right, unfortunately, and Clarke had never been a particularly patient person. An undeterminable but torturously long amount of time later, they were still stuck in this cramped space, which, from the smell of it, had been recently used as a pig pen. Outside their hiding place, the fighting continued unabated, and though the racket sounded a little fainter after a while, when Captain Blake peered out on the street once more, he still did not declare it safe to leave their shelter.

Instead, apparently settling in for a longer waiting period, he struck up a conversation.

"So, why is Port Arkadia's princess so eager to leave? It seems like you could live a comfortable life up at the mansion." He reached out to playfully tug at her earlobe, and the diamond-encrusted earring dangling from it. The motion sent a flare of something through her body, a sensation that reminded her, oddly, of the time she had found an electrical eel splashing about in the shallows and touched it curiously.

She slapped away his hand.

"I have my reasons."

"I assume so. I just find it hard to figure them out. You have everything you could want or need, and a husband to boot, if I understood tonight's events correctly."

"Of course, if I have a husband, I could not possibly wish for anything else," Clarke snapped, venom lacing her words. "You know, it seems you are not so different from the good folks of Port Arkadia."

The lines around his mouth deepened, she noted with satisfaction - he did not like that comparison.

"I would not be surprised if I found you trying to ransom me back to the Wallaces. But I can tell you right now you won't see a penny from them. They took me in expecting to make money off me, not lose it."

The Captain's face did not indicate whether or not he believed her - but there was a trace of anger on it that made her wonder. Was he vexed at the idea of not getting rid of her in exchange for good money? Or was it the implication that he would try to do so that had him riled up?

Whatever it was, he did not let his thought show, preferring instead to keep teasing her.

"What of young Mister Collins? Surely he would not let his beloved fall in the hands of cruel pirates."

"I believe Mister Collins' love for me is as measurable as my dowry. The price of a ransom, I fear, would be too great a test." She lifted her head a little, just to make sure he knew the only one negotiating the price of her life would be herself.

He apparently needed a moment to digest this information, for he simply looked at her with his head slightly tilted before he spoke again.

"You can rest easy, Princess - we are not in the business of selling people." His voice was teasing, but there was a hard edge to it. Apparently, this pirate was willing to own up to a lot of grievous crimes - but she had found out where he drew the line.

It was an interesting discovery, and one that made her feel a whole lot better about entrusting her own and the lives of her friends to him.

Still, it could not hurt to remind him of the advantages of helping her. "I'm glad to hear it. Besides, judging by your men's happy plundering and pillaging, I do believe I've paid enough for my passage."

He looked at her once more, once again with that piercing, calculating look. Then he finally spoke.

"That you have." He leaned back to look around the corner and, apparently finding the street finally deserted, took her hand and pulled her out of the nook. "You'll have to do one more thing to earn your freedom though."

With those alarming words, he started pulling her down the street - in the opposite direction of the harbour, where she expected his boats to be waiting for them. The moment she realised that he was veering off course, Clarke dug her heels in the ground.

"Where are you going? The harbour's the other way."

"And that is where all of the Governor's remaining forces are headed now. So we'll choose a different path. My crew will draw them to the harbour during their retreat, and our way to the boats will still be blocked. We'll catch them off the cliffs."

And indeed, she realised now, that was exactly where he was taking her: up the narrow path to the oldest building in town, and the one highest point above it too. Clarke could only hope that he had some means of escape prepared there – a rope ladder perhaps, or a trusted man with knowledge of a secret path down.

He had no such thing. In fact, he barely had a plan, and what little he had could be explained in one word – a word he uttered, terrifyingly, after coming to a stop right at the edge of the high, steep cliffs.

"Jump."

"Have you gone mad?"

"It's our only way out of the city. Thanks to your little romantic entanglement, we've already stayed too long. The guards have been slowed down, yes, but they still have decades of Navy discipline drilled into them. They will be restoring the city's defenses as we speak."

Clarke gingerly stepped forward to the edge and looked down where the rock dropped out from under them, down and down and down to the hard, smooth surface of the water. It was deep here, with no treacherous rocks hiding beneath the surface, and the town's young men dared each other to do the jump on a regular basis. It was possible to survive it. The question was: would she find the courage for that last, deciding step?

"Are Wells and Raven out of the city?"

"I assume so. They got into a boat as soon as we breached the city walls."

"Then that's all that matters. You can save yourself."

"What of your reasons? And the Wallaces?"

"They will not harm me. I'll tell them you simply robbed me of my jewelry and let me go."

She thought she had convinced him – until he asked: "Can you swim?"

She nodded, dumbly. It was not the swimming she was worried about.

"And do you want to be free of the Wallaces, make your own path in life?"

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Clarke stared at the sea deep beneath her, trying to decide if she had the courage to jump, and possibly leave behind not just her unwanted life here but the burden of her mortal existence altogether. But then, her pirate saviour seemed convinced that it was survivable – and for some reason, she thought as she looked at him, she trusted the man.

A soft breeze from the ocean ruffled her hair, gently as if beckoning her closer, and Clarke nodded.

"Yes."

"Good."

He held out his hand, and without a sign of her former hesitation, she took it, and gripped it tight as they leapt over the edge of the cliffs together.

Despite her terror, there was something seductive in the fall, in the contrast between the airy nothing around her and the solid hand in hers, and without meaning to, Clarke laughed out loud.

Then she hit the water, hard, and all the air was pressed out of her lungs.

She knew how to swim, her father having taught her before she ever set foot on a ship, but no matter how Clarke tread and struggled against the pull of the water, still she kept sinking, much faster than she ought to and even faster than her pirate companion, whose much bulkier form she was quickly leaving behind. Clarke kicked her feet, desperate to get some leverage towards the orange glow that indicated the way to the surface, and the glorious air above it. But her feet got tangled s in the voluminous folds of her dress, which wrapped around her ever more tightly and heavily, and she could do nothing but sink, and sink, as what little air had been left in her lungs bubbled out and the water around her turned ever darker and colder.

The last thing she saw was Captain Blake, swimming towards her with a dagger between his teeth.

Then everything went dark.

***

 

She returned to consciousness to find herself looking at that very same face, but the dark look on it had been replaced by a worried one, and there was no dagger in sight. Captain Blake was leaning over her, water dripping from his curly hair onto her, his hand cradling the back of her head. Behind him, she could make out the dark hull of a ship and, even further up above, a sky full of brilliantly twinkling stars.

Which, her mind managed to pierce together now, meant that she was lying on her back.

She sat up so quickly she almost bumped her head into Captain Blake's.

“What happened?“

“You passed out. Your dress was too heavy, and much too tightly laced.“

She could feel her cheeks heat up at the idea of discussing something so intimate as her corset with him. Then, wondering how he had dealt with the problem of her dress, Clarke lowered her eyes to her chest – and gasped in horror: Both dress and corset were gone, leaving her in only her shift and petticoat.

”I had to cut the dress off. It was pulling you under.“

Clarke barely listened to his explanation as something occurred to her.

“Everything I own was in this dress! My jewelry, anything I could potentially sell to live off... I convinced Wells and Raven this was a good idea, and now we're all going to starve.”

And somehow, after narrowly escaping the Wallaces, jumping off a cliff and almost drowning, this realisation was the thing that threatened to undo the composure she had tried so hard to hold on to.

“Chin up,” she suddenly heard, and a surprisingly gentle hand came to her chin to help her do just that until she looked into Captain Blake's dark eyes. “No one on my ship will ever have to starve. We'll figure out some way to keep you and your friends alive.”

With that, he got to his feet, rocking the boat as he did so and then holding out a hand to help her up.

“Now come on – your friends are waiting, and my crew are impatient to set sail.”

As if to suppport this statement, there was an unintelligible yell from high above them, and something dropped down the side of the ship's hull – a rope ladder.

Captain Blake gripped its end with one hand and pointed towards it with the other.

“Your ship awaits, your Highness.”

Climbing up the rope ladder was a shaky and taxing endeavour, but eventually, she set foot on board the _Persephone_ , and was immediately engulfed in a hug by Raven, to her great surprise. She had not known the woman to be fond of such displays of friendship, but apparently, conspiring with pirates had created a bond between them, and Clarke found that she too was glad to see the other woman well and safe aboard the vessel.

Wells was standing next to her, holding out a blanket he had procured from somewhere and immediately wrapping her up in it.

“You made it,” he exclaimed, dazed as if finding the fact hard to believe, and Clarke gripped his hands and squeezed them tightly.

“ _We_ made it.”

For a moment, all three of them simply stood clutching each other's hands, hardly able to believe that they had really succeeded in their daring endeavour. Around them, the pirate crew was bustling and flitting about, hoisting sails and fastening lines, and with the next strong wind, the sails above them filled out and the ship set into motion, gliding swiftly away from the island Clarke would now never have to try and call her home.

Looking around, she spotted Captain Blake, bellowing commands from the quarterdeck. Watching him easily control the chaos all around was fascinating, and Clarke found herself inching closer while Raven was distracted by some mechanism on the crane by the cargo hold and Wells tried to keep her from falling down as she inspected it.

Clarke wove her way swiftly through the pirates, most of whom barely spared her more than a glance or a quick joke at her sodden and dishevelled appearance, and made it to the quarterdeck just in time to see the Captain moving on to the furthest and highest deck of the ship, where the view back to Port Arkadia was unhindered.

Stepping up beside him, she followed his gaze back to the island. Even though it was rapidly disappearing in the distance, she could still spot the orange glow of the fires raging through the town, the thick plumes of smoke wafting above it. But she had no doubt the people of Port Arkadia were working to douse the fire and put it out soon. Despite the hard hit it had taken today, the fort would soon be repaired, the harbour chain unstuck and the town's flotilla ready to sail. Clarke had no doubt the Governor would want to avenge the damage Port Arkadia had suffered tonight, and Clarke felt guilty for bringing that kind of violent wrath over Captain Blake's crew.

“They will come after us with all their might.”

She looked at him now, expecting to see worry or anger, but he only shrugged. Turning sideways, he abandoned the distant sight of Port Arkadia to look out at the open sea to the East, where the ship was currently headed. Before them, the water stretched on to the far horizon, all the way to the sliver of pale golden light announcing the waiting sunrise.

“Let them,” he said lightly as he looked at her once more, and smiled. And suddenly, Clarke felt sure that, even in those tempestuous times, she'd always be safe here, with him aboard the _Persephone_. “It's a great big world, and we've got a fast ship."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two things: The quote "It's a great big world, and we've got fast ships" from Game of Thrones, and the song "The Pirate's Gospel" by Alela Diane. So, obviously, I crammed them both in here. (Really though, listen to the song. There's yo-ho-ing and everything.)  
> I had to watch ALL the pirate movies for this one, btw. And google weird shit like "were electric eels called "electric eels" in 1720?" I still don't know, btw. But I do know that the term "electric" existed already.


End file.
